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Can’t you see what you're doing to me?
I know you are aware from my increasing tumbles onto the floor.
Your constant backfire leading to my demise,
When all you need to do is change the oil.
Doctors say stress will **** you,
it’s scarier that you’re aware.
I wonder if this is what you want?
I wonder if you even care?
You say you don’t want yelling,
when there is peace it’s as if I’m not there,
when you want something your self-entitled ego that’s fed by your own blood tells you that you deserve more.
I see your age doing more and being grateful for less,
you get straight F’s while owning every electronic to exist,
still believing it isn’t fair.
You take all you can with not even a blink of empathy,
for what you want you will get.
not because we allow it, but because if we don’t; someone will.
If you don’t see what’s depraved with that,
then you’re part of the defeat,
Of what’s left of morals, humility and integrity.
My morning as a mother in this generation.

— The End —